


what they have between them

by GremlinMan



Category: Fantastic Four, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Sort Of, Spideytorch Week 2019, can't see shit, i have a raging headache and only sheer will is keeping me awake right now, i typed half of this wearing sunglasses, idk if there's really comfort but there's hurt, no betas we die like men, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 07:20:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19949011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GremlinMan/pseuds/GremlinMan
Summary: set a little bit after a theoretical SpideyTorch confession.Johnny patches up Peter in his bathroom.





	what they have between them

Peter tipped his head back, resting his aching skull against the cool surface of the mirror. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, the weight of his exhaustion crushing his shoulders. The bathroom’s cold, icy even, but he can feel Johnny’s heat even from the other end of the room. 

He’s sat upon the counter, feet hanging loosely. The tattered remains of the top half of his suit have been removed and most probably discarded, his battered torso in full view of his friend.

“Jesus, Peter,” Johnny sighs, setting the metal first aid box on the counter with a familiar clink. He snaps the lid open, pulling out various supplies. “You should be more careful, healing factor or not.” 

Peter says nothing, simply breathing. He’s adrift, mind floating. It’s always like this, when the adrenaline that’s been flooding his system finally slows and the full pain of his injuries settles in his bones. He’s tired, limbs heavier than lead. 

“Don’t ignore me, Spider-Man!” Johnny snaps, slamming a hand on the counter. Peter opens his eyes, lids heavy, to consider the blond.

He doesn’t say anything for a long while, considering. He looks away, blinking. He feels bare, exposed, in a way he hasn’t since his Uncle died. “It’s not your job to take care of me. We don’t even know what we are.”

Johnny stares at him, incredulous. “It’s not my-?” 

What they have between them is a new, flighty thing. It doesn’t have a name yet, both too scared to label it, but Johnny doesn’t need some new type of relationship to care about his  _ friend _ . 

He shakes his head, dabbing one of Peter’s injuries with a cotton swab. He wraps it gently but securely. He’s had some practice with this, after all. 

“I did NOT ruin my favorite sleeping shirt hauling your stupid ass in through my window for you to say something like that, you dolt!” He hisses, stepping close to tend to his face. Even though he’s angry and his hands are shaking, his touch is gentle. 

He’s standing between Peter’s knees, hand resting thoughtlessly on the brunet’s thigh. 

“Whatever we are, you’re my friend, Pete, first and always” he says softly, eyes focused on a long scratch across Peter’s forehead. 

Peter can only focus on Johnny’s blue, blue eyes. 

His friend pastes a bandage over the scratch, leaning forward to inspect a scrape. 

Peter leans forward, dropping his head onto Johnny’s shoulder. It’s not something he planned, really, but he’s tired and sluggish and he really didn’t think this one through. 

Johnny drops his arms around Peter’s back, and the brunet lifts his arms to wrap around the other man’s waist. 

The brunet sighs into Johnny’s blue shirt, strangely throat tight.

Johnny places a kiss gently, gently to Peter’s mop of hair, tangled and bloodied.

**Author's Note:**

> ehm inspired by lanfibio on tumblr's drawing for today's prompt. go check it out, it's awesome.


End file.
